


This New World of Ours

by schweet_heart



Series: The Prince's Book of Hours [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, remix eligible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2335649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not long after Arthur's coronation, Merlin has difficulty getting him out of bed. As it turns out, even the Once and Future King has doubts sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This New World of Ours

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a gorgeous fan-art comic I saw on tumblr and now can't find in my favourites. If you recognise it, please link me!
> 
> [Chinese translation by antheaSH](http://lideng985.lofter.com/post/1ecf091b_fe49cba).

“Good morning, Arthur!” Merlin chirped, pushing open the door to Arthur’s chambers with the king’s breakfast tray balanced on one hip. As he did every morning, he made a special effort to infuse his voice with as much good cheer as possible, just to drive Arthur crazy: the king was not a morning person. As expected, Arthur groaned something unintelligible into his pillow and pulled the covers up over his head.

 

“Don’t give me that,” Merlin said. He set down the breakfast tray and marched over to the window, letting the sunlight and fresh air stream into the room. “It’s a gorgeous day, and you’ve got loads to do. Time to get up!”

 

This time, Arthur’s reply was distinctly audible even from beneath the bedclothes. “Go _away_ , Merlin, or I’ll have you beheaded.”

 

Amused, Merlin sat on the edge of the bed and bounced a little. The mattress rustled under his weight.

 

“It’s not a treasonable offence to do my job, sire.”

 

“It is the way _you_ do it,” Arthur pointed out, still muffled. Merlin rolled his eyes and tugged at the blankets, which Arthur immediately clutched at with his free hand. “Go. Away. As your king, I command you to leave me alone.”

 

“As my king, you need to get up and start running the kingdom, _my lord_.”

 

“Your lord needs more sleep,” Arthur said. He still hadn’t rolled over, and for the first time Merlin felt a twinge of unease, despite the fact that this was for all intents and purposes their normal morning routine. Usually, Arthur would fight _back_ when Merlin annoyed him, and would grudgingly allow himself to be harassed into going about his morning toilet. Today Arthur truly seemed to have no energy, or at the very least no inclination to spar with his manservant first thing in the morning. And Arthur _always_ liked to argue with Merlin.

 

“Are you all right?” Merlin asked, resting a hand on the lump under the covers where he guessed Arthur’s shoulder must be. “Is something the matter, sire?”

 

“No,” Arthur grumped. His dishevelled head appeared as he finally rolled over to confront his manservant. “I just didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

 

“That’s not like you.” Merlin studied his face. There were dark smudges under his eyes and his mouth was turned down at the corners. “You look awful. Are you feeling all right?” In spite of himself, he couldn’t resist putting a palm up to feel Arthur’s forehead. The king scowled.

 

“I’m not a child, _Mer_ lin.”

 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Merlin said. He grinned cheekily as Arthur’s frown deepened. “If you’re not sick, then what is it?”

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

“Arthur.”

 

“I told you, it’s _nothing_ ,” Arthur insisted, sitting up. “I’m perfectly fine, stop harassing me.”

 

“Does that mean you’re going to get up?” 

 

Arthur rolled his eyes, but instead of answering just yanked on the blanket Merlin was still holding with both hands. Merlin yanked back, laughing, but Arthur was too strong for him; another pull and Merlin was tripping over his own feet and sprawling half across the king’s massive bed, Arthur smirking at him in triumph.

 

“No,” he drawled, mock-thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ll be getting up just yet.”

 

“Prat,” Merlin said, but it was half-hearted at best. Arthur was acting playful and more like his usual self, but the lines hadn't faded from around his eyes and mouth. Moreover, he seemed entirely serious about going back to sleep, snuggling down under the blankets with his eyes determinedly closed as if he really were a kid with a stomachache and not the most powerful man in Camelot. 

 

Merlin crawled up the bed to lie face-to-face with him and waited for Arthur to notice his presence. 

 

“Go away, Merlin.”

 

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Arthur’s eyes flicked open. This close, they were startlingly blue, slightly darker around the irises, and Merlin was surprised to note that his eyelashes were actually quite long, just so fair they practically disappeared in the light. He blinked, and Arthur blinked back.

 

“I don’t think I want to be king,” Arthur said in a rush, with the air of someone confessing a heinous crime. “I mean, I do, I just…I don’t want to be king _today_. I’m not ready.”

 

“Of course you are,” Merlin said, surprised. “What are you talking about? You’re going to be the greatest king Albion has ever known.”

 

Arthur sighed. “Don’t you think that’s a little excessive?”

 

“Arthur.” Merlin propped himself up on his elbows and leaned over to rest his chin on Arthur’s chest. “Have you even _met_ yourself? You eat ‘excessive’ for breakfast, and take on ‘above and beyond the call of duty’ for seconds.”

 

“Well, maybe I don’t want to anymore,” Arthur said, scowling. “Maybe I just want to be ordinary.”

 

Merlin gave a short laugh, then stopped as he realised Arthur was being serious. 

 

"Who are you and what have you done with the real Arthur Pendragon?”

 

Arthur smacked him with one of the spare pillows, and a brief tussle ensued, in which Merlin — handicapped by the inability to use magic when Arthur was so close — ended up being pinned bodily to the mattress by a flushed and slightly sheepish-looking king.

 

“I mean it, though,” Arthur said, panting a little from the struggle. “Being king, it’s just…I always thought I’d make a good king, eventually, but what if I’m not ready? What if I fail?”

 

“You’re not going to fail, Arthur,” Merlin said. He reached up to brush back Arthur’s tousled hair. “You’re meant to be a great king. And I’ll always be here to help you.”

 

“Mm. Somehow that’s not very reassuring.”

 

Merlin snorted. “I’m sorry for being such a useless servant, my lord.”

 

Arthur looked down at him. Their faces were very close together, the king dressed only in his breeches, all rumpled uncertainty and golden skin. Merlin met his gaze with something like surprise, and something not. It almost seemed like Arthur wanted — like he was going to —

 

The king leaned in close, close enough that their foreheads touched, their noses brushing together, and Merlin caught his breath.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Arthur murmured, his amusement clear. “You know I’ve always trusted you.”

 

“Always?”

 

“All right, I’ve _almost_ always trusted you. And occasionally even listened to you. There are few other servants in this castle who can say the same.”

 

The warm puff of Arthur’s breath on Merlin’s skin was enough to make him shiver a little. He tipped his chin up, searching Arthur’s face, and the king let him look, smiling slightly. 

 

“All right?”

 

Merlin nodded. 

 

“Good,” Arthur said, and kissed him. 

 

Since coming to work for Arthur, Merlin had dealt with all manner of unexpected and dangerous things, from greedy goblins to trolls to furious witches bent on revenge, yet he thought — in what small part of his brain was still functioning at all — that perhaps this was the most unexpected of them all, and the most dangerous. Arthur kissed like a man on a mission, determined and tentative all at once, like this was some kind of test he had to pass to secure Merlin’s loyalty. Merlin made an irritated noise — didn’t Arthur know by now that Merlin would follow him to hell and back if he only asked it? — and surged up into the kiss, deepening it without a second thought as his fingers twined into Arthur’s soft golden hair. 

 

Arthur’s weight settled against him, heavy but familiar, and oddly comforting. The king’s hands were already at Merlin’s belt, tugging at the buckle, and Merlin shifted his hips obediently to allow him better access.

 

“Arthur,” he said, breathless. “I have — chores —“

 

“Take the day off,” Arthur said. He nipped at Merlin’s lower lip, catching it between his teeth for a moment before letting go. “I’ll talk to your master and convince him to spare you for a while. I’m sure he’ll listen to me — I can be very persuasive.”

 

He said this last so smugly that Merlin couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“You are such a prat,” he said, but gave in.


End file.
